“Open up,” the dentist said, his steel blue eyes peering over the purple mask.
Why purple? Aren’t they usually light blue or white?
It set off his suntan and the whites of his eyes (and his teeth which I saw before he’d slipped it on). Too much, way too much.
“Miss Alabaster, open up please,” he repeated with a little sigh.
Without another word, he and his assistant fell onto and into my mouth.
I gripped the arms of the chair, sweaty-palmed. Eyes shut tight, mouth wide open.
A sucker, a mirror, a pick, a drill, and a hook to hold back my lip – surely it can't all fit in? I’m exhausted already.
“Open wider,” he said, his piercing eyes on mine for a split second.
More? I did. My lips hurt, my jawbone shrieked in my ear.
“Ah cahnk!” I said, shaking my head as I croaked from the back of my throat, which filled with water from the jet he was squirting and I gagged, coughed and suddenly vomited.
No warning I just spewed all over the drill, the pick, the mirror, the assistant’s hook and worst of all, onto the purple mask.
Terrified and embarrassed I couldn’t escape.
“I’m sorry – I’m so sorry,” I blurted, trying to mop it up with the bib around my neck. But it wouldn’t reach, because it was clipped on a very short chain.
That’s when he burst out laughing, the man who became my husband.